


Timey-Wimey Twists and Turns

by deird1



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 00:57:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deird1/pseuds/deird1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giles encounters some future acquaintances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Timey-Wimey Twists and Turns

**Timey-Wimey Twists and Turns**

He awoke, head throbbing.

“What–” he started, and winced. Then tried to gently touch his bruised forehead – only to discover, somewhat unsurprisingly, that his hands were tied behind his back.

This called for caution. And so despite swearing up a storm _internally_ , Giles assumed a blank, composed expression. Or as much of a one as he could, considering he’d just been whacked in the head with his own kettle.

A hand appeared in front of his face, holding a polystyrene cup. “Whiskey?”

“Actually,” he said, evenly, “I’d prefer some port. Preferably Belgian. Why don’t I wait here in this shed while you go hunt it down?”

The owner of the hand – kidnapper the first, he assumed – knelt down and looked at him carefully. “Same old Giles, then,” she said. “Good to see we didn’t cause brain damage or anything.”

“Young lady, I have been knocked unconscious more times than I can count. Now, if you’d like to present your demands, we can get on with the whole threats and torture thing.” It was supposed to sound casual and unconcerned, but was hampered somewhat by the – well, by the fact that he was _tied_ to a bloody _chair_ , truthfully. Even the most heroic of Watchers could be forgiven for letting his apprehension show when dealing with inept criminals and possible concussion.

He moved his hands, trying to determine how well they’d been tied. If he could find a knife…

The kidnapper dragged a chair over, and sat opposite him. At first glance – right before his vision was obscured by the kettle slamming towards his skull – he’d taken her for a school student returning a late library book; possibly a student trying to enhance her ‘rep’ by pretending to be in a gang. Now, though, she was clearly in her twenties or thereabouts. And the jacket and jeans were reading more “first thing I grabbed” than “fashion statement”.

She smiled, gently. “Hi Giles. My name’s Aurora. And, um, you’re totally safe, by the way.”

“Safe?”

“Yep.”

“Really. Because the resemblance to a common-or-garden kidnapping is astonishing.”

Aurora grinned. “Yeah, sorry about that. We needed to do this as secretly as possible. And the hitting-you thing was just Illyria. She’s like that.”

“Illyria?”

“Yeah, she’s…” she gestured to the left, and paused momentarily – before turning and whispering “This is the bit where you say hello.”

“What would be the purpose?” came the reply. Giles turned his head, and saw another woman, dressed in a rather alarming leather outfit, standing close at hand. “My name is not relevant to this conversation.”

“Yeah, but it’s _polite_.” Aurora turned back to him. “Sorry. Anyway – we kinda need your help.”

“Well, this is an excellent way of getting it.” The strand of rope at the base of his right hand felt slightly loose. He wriggled his wrist, experimentally.

“Assuming that’s sarcastic, for the record.” She smiled, and tried a sip of the whiskey. “But I’m – eurgh! that’s gross! – I’m – really, _eww_ – totally serious. And it’s sort of complicated.” She narrowed her eyes. “So if you could stop trying to escape for just a minute, that’d be really helpful.”

“I’m–” he opened his mouth in denial, but she rolled her eyes.

“Please. You’ve got the same expression you had last time Buffy told the stevedore story. You, mister, are plotting a quick exit.”

He stopped testing his bonds – less because she’d noticed, and more because: “You’re acquainted with Buffy?”

“Yep! And you, too.”

“Errr…”

“It’s simple, really.” She shrugged, continuing, “Well, no, it’s not, it’s horribly complicated. But the bit right _now_ is simple. Ish.”

“By all means, enlighten me,” he said, wearily. “As often happens during kidnappings, you have my full attention.”

“We’re time travellers.”

“Time travellers,” Giles said flatly.

“Kind of. We’re hitchhiking behind a mystical vortex flow, and using the Slayer’s essence to dimension hop back in time to Sunnydale. And a whole lot of other complicated stuff, but let’s face it,” Aurora waved her hand, “you don’t really care right now, and I’m already about to have explained it to you in the future _anyway_ , so.”

If he twisted his left pinky finger around just enough, he could hook it under the third strand on his right wrist. “And you’re here for…”

“Your blood. Um.” She furrowed her brow. “That just sounded _really_ murdery. A _bit_ of your blood. It’s because you’ve been kidnapped.”

“I’m aware of that.” And then pull his fingers, one at a time, through the loop…

“No – again. In the future.”

“Glad to know this is a recurring theme in my life.” Then maybe the left wrist would be loose enough to…

“Giles, can you _listen?_ ”

He blinked.

Aurora shifted in her chair, irritably. “Look, Giles, I know you don’t _get_ this, but I know you. _Well_. And I have seen you making snarky comments while waiting to be rescued _many times_ before. I need you to stop being British, and listen. Okay?”

And with that, she glared at him. Silently.

It was rather unnerving.

Giles cleared his throat. “I apologise. Please continue.” He sat back, wondered briefly why he was apologising to someone who’d thrown cookware at his head, and attempted to look attentive.

“You – future you – have been kidnapped. And there’s this really cool spell to help us find you, but we need your blood. And your cloth and your word – but anyway, it’s not like we keep vials of everyone’s blood sitting around the office, so we had to come here and find you.”

“You really know me? In the future?”

She nodded.

“And Buffy?”

Aurora raised her eyebrows. “And Willow, and Xander, and Oz, and heaps of other people who I’m not going to mention, because spoilers.”

“Spoilers?”

“Timey-wimey spoilers of doom causing time-altering cataclysmic events. Andr– _someone_ made me promise like sixty times to not tell you anything.” She grinned. “And I’m using a fake name, and everything.”

“But… I don’t know you yet. How is a fake name–”

“You _will_ have known me, though. And it’s a really dangerous thing to mess with time travel. The only reason we can even be here is because neither of us was in this dimension at the time. Now, I mean.”

Giles thought for a minute, then said carefully, “Given that your story is unverifiable in _every_ way, how can I be sure that you don’t want my blood for some nefarious purpose?”

“You can’t, basically. But–”

“But I can’t realistically stop you from my present positon.”

“Exactly.” Aurora grinned at him. “Plus, not to brag, but I got you to lend me the Tome of Aetheron after you swore you’d never let it out of your sight. I’m really good at convincing you, Giles. So you might as well give in and save yourself an hour.”

Put that way, it did seem fairly convincing.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll let you see the spell we’re going to do,” she offered.

Giles nodded, slowly. And clarified, “Although, if this _does_ turn out to be for something shady, I’ll set Buffy on you.”

“Totally,” Aurora nodded.

And after that, the rest of the encounter went rather smoothly.

* * *

“Hi, Giles!” She hugged him, enthusiastically.

He extricated himself with difficulty. “Hello, Dawn. It’s nice to see you again. Merry Christmas.”

“You too! How’s Kent?”

“Pleasant as ever. How is college?”

“Not bad,” she shrugged, then turned her attention to his desk. “What are these?”

“Just some books I acquired from a friend. The history is fascinating. I think you’ll enjoy looking through them while you’re here.”

“Cool…” Dawn picked up the topmost one, and was flipping through it curiously when Giles interrupted – opening the fourth book to an elegant leather bookmark.

“Oh, and Dawn? Should any of us ever happen to be kidnapped… _this_ is the spell that you’d need to use.”


End file.
